


Grossly Inappropriate

by Leaveitbrii



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Cheating, M/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 06:04:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7606555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaveitbrii/pseuds/Leaveitbrii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet the man of your dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Grossly Inappropriate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pugge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pugge/gifts).



> Boom. Shaka laka.  
> This was loosely based on the game Catherine, which is amazing and you should play it

"Your ex-girlfriend keeps texting me." 

Chris meets Emily's frowning face, her lips pursed red as she flips through messages on her phone. She seems visibly irritated, thin strands of dark hair falling into her face, the bun she wears slouching, messy.

"What?" Chris asks, setting his phone down, an email from his boss about the newest code for their client's website on the screen.

Emily shows him her screen. It's a text message, Ashley's name sprawled across the small screen, a question for Emily's opinion on their most recent off again situation.

"Shit." Chris whispers, meeting Emily's hard gaze. She seems torn, conflicted, eyebrows furrowing as her expression struggles to stay even.

"How's Matt?" Chris asks. "You guys get back together yet?"

Emily groans, "I didn't invite you hear to talk about Matt. This is about you and Ashley dumping your ass again."

"You can't dodge my question with something equally awful." Chris snorts, stealing a fry from Emily's tray. She smirks, reaching up to take her hair down. It tumbles down, still damp, black shining under the harsh light of the diner.

Chris wasn't sure though. He's been with Ashley since high school, their fleeting moment of seven minutes in heaven at Matt's party becoming something more. Mike had given it a month, Sam said a year and now Chris is counting moments where people aren't asking him if he's going to commit.

Chris doesn't think he's the problem but he's apart of it.

Emily pats Chris' hand. "Just stay broken up. Didn't she fuck your coworker or something?"

"We were on a break." Chris groans.

Emily lifts an eyebrow at him.

"What about you? Huh? You and Matt."

"I don't know what I want anymore." Emily admits quietly, eyes falling shut. Her shoulders lift with a sigh and Chris never imagined sitting in a booth with Emily at nearly one in the morning. He also never imagined Emily being so insecure in regards to relationships but Chris guesses that's what happens when your boyfriend wants to marry you and you run away from it.

"Let's go out." 

Chris hums in response, dragging a fry through a thick dollop of ketchup. It slides off with a wet plop. Chris pops the fry into his mouth with a shrug. He didn't have work tomorrow, which argumentatively meant he could stay up as late as he wanted. 

"Ashley wants to meet up tomorrow."

Emily rolls her eyes, "Nurse your hangover with your not-girlfriend and come out with your best friend."

"Oh," Chris grins. "I'm your best friend?"

"Ugh," Emily scoffs, nose wrinkling and she's slipping out of the booth, wiping one manicured finger under her eye. Chris reaches out, grasps her thin wrist in his hand, still beaming.

"God, you're disgusting." Emily says curtly but she doesn't move away. "Are you coming or not?" 

Chris checks his watch, decides he doesn't care about the actual time and follows after her. Emily chooses the bar, something from their early college days when Chris ate ramen out of Tupperware and Emily was the only reason he had food most days.

Fond memories. Whatever that meant and Chris isn't about to begin dabbing into his feelings because he's a little drunk, Emily's laughter loud in his ear, her cheeks flushed pink as she pushes another whiskey shot into his hand.

There's a girl with them, blonde hair split into two braids, her smile wicked and sharp and she keeps whispering in Emily's ear until she's blushing and giggling and Chris watches them head off together hand in hand, wondering how the fuck he got himself into this predicament.

Matt was going to kill him.

Chris asks for another shot, passing glances with another man sitting at the bar, his eyes dark and tired, something bottomless, empty almost, a smirk curled onto his lips as Chris watches take a sip of his drink, the way his throat works, the hardness of his jaw.

Shit.

Chris looks away, neck flushed warm and he doesn't even acknowledge the bartender's pitying gaze when he knocks back the shot, deciding he's definitely too drunk to try and stop himself from staring. His thoughts are coherent though, imagines Ashley's pretty smile and wants to throw up.

But they were on a break. A break she wanted because she said Chris couldn't get his shit together. It's not his-

"Hey, dude." 

Chris isn't sure how he can hear anything over the thump of the music and it could be because this guy is really, really pressed up into his face, smile flirty and pleasant and Chris has to look around because surely someone this attractive can't be talking to him.

"Can't be too hard to believe." The man responds as if Chris spoke aloud, shit, maybe he did, Chris isn't sure and Emily always said he talked too much when he was wasted, tipsy, whatever.

Chris looks at the man, bracing himself against the bar as he tries not to spew at the mouth, it's hard, given how close the man is, lips stretched into a welcoming smile, words blurring together and Chris wets his lips, dark eyes tracking the movement.

"You just gonna stare?" The man chuckles, voice raspy, deep and it shakes along Chris' spine like an invitation, oh, it is an invitation, the man grinning broadly, finger beckoning Chris to move closer.

This is bad, Chris thinks, or maybe he says it aloud because the man's eyes grow bright, a smirk curving into the corner of his mouth as he grasps Chris by his collar, meeting him the rest of the way and Chris tries not to groan too loud when their mouths meet.

Fuck, he doesn't even know the guy's name but his tongue feels good in Chris' mouth, on his skin, Chris blinking hazily at bathroom ceiling, the man sinking down to his knees, face cast in shadows, pearly black eyes peering up at him.

"When did we get here?" Chris giggles, hiccuping and he reaches out, hand combing through the man's hair, fingers twisting, and pulling hard when lips brush along the head of his dick, barely a kiss, the warm swipe of tongue that follows.

"Too late for names?" Chris manages, moaning deep in his throat when the head is sucked into a hot, hot cavern. 

"Josh," is his answer, low and it rattles inside Chris' slow moving mind briefly before he's distracted, nearly choking on how easily Josh takes him into his mouth, jaw falling slack, tongue trailing over a vein and Josh's gaze hasn't left Chris' face.

"'m Chris." 

"Yeah," Josh responds, pulling off with a soft pop. "I know who you are."

Chris almost asks how Josh knows him but it doesn't really matter, not with how muddled his thoughts are, so he tilts forward, bracing himself on the nasty bathroom wall as Josh's throat works around him, swallowing and groaning when Chris grabs a fistful of dark hair and pulls.

"F..fucking christ," Chris whimpers. He's not going to last long, the sight of watching Josh take Chris' uncoordinated thrusts with no protest too much, blackening beady eyes staring back, amused, a glimmer of something dark that Chris isn't about to try to decipher.

He just wants to come. Preferably not a few seconds into getting his dick sucked.

Chris eases out of Josh's mouth, thumbing away precome and saliva and Josh sucks the digit into his mouth, teeth grazing along flesh. Chris tries not to wheeze, shuffling Josh to his feet and against the wall, taking Josh's wrists in hand, mouth finding the other's in slurred silence. He can feel Josh's smile against him, feels it quiver and shake when Chris shoves a bit too hard, biting swears into Josh's skin until he's red with bruises, jeans pushed down to his knees, Chris between his legs.

"This is so bad." Chris mutters, nipping at Josh's bottom lip, his chin. The skin beneath his hands is so warm, burning almost, throbbing like its a separate pulse from Josh's heart and Chris loves the way it feels, slumping down on the toilet, Josh in his lap, one leg still wrapped in tight denim, the other curved into Chris' hand.

"D-do.. Lub..You have," Chris exhales, words crashing together in his mouth and Josh doesn't answer, lifts up just so, Chris' dick in hand, eyes focused on Chris as he sinks down. 

Chris holds Josh's hips tightly, nostrils flared as Josh settles down on him, a soft pant escaping his lips before that smirk is back, Josh tilting forward, lips brushing lips. Chris forces himself to relax, trying to focus beyond "don't come, don't come, don't come" as velvet heat envelopes him. His hips rock up into Josh's, Chris swearing under his breath at how good it feels.

"Fuck, Cochise," Josh whimpers, staring down at their connect bodies. Chris blinks, leaning in when Josh's face distorts, weird, sclera blacker than coal and Chris just thinks he's really, really drunk because he starts laughing.

"You gonna fuck me or what, big guy?" Josh smirks, rolling his hips and Chris clutches Josh's thighs tightly, a spark lit in his stomach.

"Should've made you choke on my dick." 

"Nights not over yet, man." Josh purrs, breath hitching when Chris rocks up into him, leaning in for a sloppy kiss when Chris reaches for him. Chris meets each of Josh's lazy thrusts, nails digging into the soft flesh of Josh's ass, raking his fingers through thick hair.

"You're so good." Chris whines, feeling himself grow closer and closer to the edge, stomach twisting with need. 

"Yeah I am." Josh chuckles breathlessly. "Gonna come, Cochise?"

"'s not.. my fault." Chris hiccups, slouching back against the toilet, eyes slowly tracking how Josh moves against him, each soft caress, the black in his eyes. He's so fucking drunk, Chris raspberries, climax blindsiding him with wilted 'fuck' as he pulses inside Josh. 

Josh works him through it, hand braced on Chris shoulder, tonguing his bottom lip lazily, gleam of something sharp in his mouth, skin lined with veins and Chris squints, feeling his face for his glasses. They're still there but everything seems abnormal, strange and different until he feels come drip down his hand, grip moving over Josh's softening member. 

"Nice guy." Josh mutters, slouching heavily against Chris. 

"Holy shit." Chris says smartly, still tucked inside of Josh, breathing through a head high and general haze when soft lips trace along the nape of his neck. 

"That was good." Chris comments.

"Yeah."

"Reeeeal good."

Josh laughs. "How drunk are you, bro?"

Chris isn't sure but he's drunk enough to grasp Josh's neck and pull him close, lips connecting into a slow kiss that Josh melts into, hands fumbling with the buttons of Chris' shirt. A shadow shifts over the light in the stall, something settled up on the corner with sharp teeth and fangs. Chris stares up at it, vision blurring and Josh cups his chin, turning Chris’ face away.

"Let's see how many rounds we can get out of you." Josh says coolly, stretching up to pull his shirt over his head. Chris doesn't argue.

-

Chris wakes up in Emily's apartment, specifically on her couch, head foggy, thick with lead and an ache settles along his temples, a steady pound echoing through his skull.

"Here." Emily's voice is loud, too loud and Chris groans when a glass is shoved into his hands, three pills held in front of him. Chris takes them, quietly wincing through every movement. He swallows the pills down with water, slumping back on Emily's couch.

"What happened?" Chris asks weakly.

"You got drunk, got some dude's number and I dragged your ass home." Emily replies, much softer this time. 

Chris forces his eyes open, squinting at how bright Emily's apartment is, curtains pulled open, the site of buildings and a blue sky stretched out before him.

"Oh god." Chris bitches, cradling his head in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah." Emily snorts, moving away from him. "I said that too. He was cute though."

"Who?" Chris winces, laying back down. He sets his glass on the floor beside him, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Jesus, Chris. You spent a half hour talking some guys ear off." Emily explains. She sounds far away. 

Chris sputters, scrambling to remember last night. He met Emily, they talked, they went out, he drank, she drank. Fuck. It all comes back with gross clarity, head beginning to pound as if it was simply giving Chris a moment of peace before everything fell to shit.

"Oh my god."

"What, bitch?" Emily sighs. "How many eggs do you want? Seven?"

"I had sex with him." Chris groans.

A moment of silence passes by, Emily cracking eggs into a bowl and when Chris looks at her, she's frowning, eyes locked on him with a sneer. If Chris is being honest it looks like she wants to punch him in the dick but more like she wants to call him a fucking idiot.

"You're a fucking idiot." He called it. "You didn't, spoiler alert. Like I said, I took your ass home. You didn't sleep with anyone."

"What?" Chris frowns, struggling to sit up. He can hear the click of gas from the oven, Emily shuffling around as she pours eggs into a skillet. She glances back at him, amused.

"Did you have some gross wet dream?" Emily smiles humorlessly. "You bust a nut on my couch? I'll fucking kill you."

Chris moves to protest, feels sticky wetness in his pants and his expression must show it all because Emily’s face darkens, a spatula pointed in his direction, shaking under the weight of a muted threat. Chris lifts his hands in surrender, Emily roughly pointing towards her bathroom. 

“You have ten minutes and so help me,” Emily exhales harshly. “God, why? You know what, don’t care, I asked for this somehow. Go. You’re lucky I keep clothes for you here. I should make you do a walk of shame.”

“I am ashamed.” Chris says, embarrassed.

“Go.”

Chris obeys, hurrying before Emily starts throwing things like she did when Chris spilled wine on her newest white rug, “It’s from India, Chris, it cost more than your life”. He closes the bathroom door softly behind him, listening to Emily’s fond sigh as he starts undressing. Chris doesn’t think he’s had a wet dream in years, idly passing through his embarrassing teenage fantasies into adulthood with only one embarrassing conversation with his mom over stains in his boxers. It felt real, crisp details and Chris can still smell what cologne that man, Josh, wore on his skin.

Chris glances at himself in the mirror, ducking his head in awkward shame until he notices a bite on his neck, more specifically a deep, red hickey then another and another. There are angry red lines in his shoulders, ones that taper off into scabbing punctures and Chris turns to examine them, only finding more mouth shaped bruises and scars. Chris can’t even say mouth shaped, more like a dog or animal with sharp teeth, none quite the same as the others, jagged and uneven like something tried to take a bite out of him. Chris stumbles out Emily’s bathroom, arms raised over his head as he continues to look.

“You did not shower that,” Emily pauses, eyes locking on Chris’ marked up body. “What the fuck, Chris?”

“These weren’t here yesterday.” Chris tells her, arms still outstretched. “What the fuck, Em? You said nothing happened.” 

Emily frowns, “Fuck you, bitch. Nothing happened. I was there, listening to you babble about bullshit and I certainly didn’t touch your nerdy ass.”

'Time of the Season' plays from his cellphone, the sound muffled against the discarded pair of jeans on the floor. Chris swears softly, running a hand across his face as he moves back into Emily’s bathroom, bending over to pat at his jeans as he fumbles to get his phone out.

Ashley's picture is displayed on the screen, red hair gleaming under soft sunlight, her smile pleasant. Fuck.

"Hey." Chris answers, forcing his voice even. He snatches his jeans from the floor, shouldering his phone as he struggles to get dressed.

"Did you forget?" Ashley's teasing voice replies.

"N-No." Chris glances back at his body, confused and weirded out. "I just.. I overslept."

"I told you this was important, Chris." Ashley sighs but Chris can hear the smile there. 

"Yeah, sorry. Be there soon." Chris murmurs.

"'kay."

Chris hangs up, facing Emily, whose face is twisted up in horror, a hand clamped over her mouth. Chris tugs on his shirt, trying to ignore how fucking gross he feels. 

“I gotta go.” Chris tells her, snatching sweater from the floor. “Ashley.”

“This is a bit more important that you’re not girlfriend.” Emily argues, worried. “Chris..”

“It’s fine. I probably just…” Chris rubs his face. “Beat the shit out of myself.”

“Chris-“

“I’ll call you later or something.” Chris moves past her and Emily grabs his arm, her grip gentle, warm, and Chris knuckles the corner of his eyes roughly before facing her. Emily is biting her lip, expression so open and concerned that Chris isn’t even sure what to say. Emily releases him, arms folded across her chest as she shifts her weight, lips trembling and she looks up into his face.

“Just.. call me.” Emily sighs.

Chris pats her arm. “I will.”

\--

"Have you talked to your mom?"

Chris glances up from his milkshake, straw chewed between teeth as he meets Ashley's stare. She smiles, green eyes narrowing, red, red hair waving down her shoulder. 

"No." Chris sighs. The last time he spoke with his mom was near the beginning of the summer and that in itself was a shitfest. His mother had droned through every question Chris didn't want to answer.

"-and I saw Sam. She's getting married." Ashley says, stirring a spoon in her small coffee cup. "Did you see?"

"No," Chris answers, staring down into his milkshake. It's melting, white mixing with a light pink. He clears his throat, rubbing his forehead as he slouches forward.

"You okay?" Ashley asks timidly.

Chris doesn't look at her. He wasn't okay, not that that wasn't his fault, in fact he felt like absolute shit and the weight of deciding whether or not to tell her was revolting, heavy and Emily should punch him in the dick on fucking principle.

"Did you meet someone?" 

Chris looks up, Ashley's gaze locked on Chris' neck. Her eyes flicker up to meet his.

"Not really."

"Chris-"

"Can we not talk about it?" Chris wasn’t even sure what the fuck he was supposed to say. He didn’t do anything apparently, last night a really, really good dream and Chris has never doubted Emily before and he sure as hell isn’t about to start.

Ashley frowns. "Kinda something we need to talk about, don't you think?"

Chris groans, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses. They shift, clattering to the table with a dull thud and he can feel Ashley's penetrating gaze.

"Maybe we should stay broken up." Ashley mutters. "You're clearly not ready if you're fuck-"

"You literally fucked my boss, Ash. The dude I fucking work for."

"We were on a break, Chris." Ashley argues.

"We're on one now." Chris snaps, nostrils flared as he slumps back. The argument in him dies almost immediately, exhaustion washing over him like a warm glaze. Chris picks up his glasses, staring into their smeared lenses and wipes them on his shirt.

"You're right." Ashley says quietly. "You're right. I'm sorry."

“Look, Ash-“

“No.” Ashley interrupts. “It’s fine. I’m.. I’m going to go.”

Chris doesn’t try to stop her and maybe Ashley expects him to, hurt lingering in her face as she rises from her seat, smoothing out wrinkles in her skirt as she rounds the table. Ashley lingers beside him, pause brief before she places a hand on his arm and leaves. Her retreating footsteps are drowned under the growing chaos in his mind. Chris buries his face in his hands, holding his glasses in shaky fingers as he tries to breathe.

“Why so glum, chum?”

Chris stiffens, startled, thoughts scrambling to place the raspy voice as he sits back, glasses sliding onto his face, a familiar face sitting across from him. 

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost, Cochise.” Josh smirks, idly stirring a sugar cube into Ashley’s leftover tea. It barely dissolves, tea cold and still in the cup.

“You were in my dream.”

Josh hums, “Was I?” He doesn’t seem surprised.

“You’re real.” Chris says dumbly, staring at Josh. “Dude.. What the fuck, bro?”

Josh’s eyes flicker up to him. “What the fuck, what, bro?”

Chris doesn’t understand. He needs to talk to Ashley, that’s what he should’ve been doing instead of snapping at her like he did. Chris shouldn’t be worried about something that didn’t happen, that.. wasn’t real. “I need to go.”

“Aw, c’mon, Chris,” Josh regards him closely, a smile spreading across his face. “I don’t do this for everyone. Stay.”

“Do what for everyone?” Chris asks, eyes narrowing.

“I feel like you already know, bro.” Josh replies smoothly.

Chris shifts in his seat, hands tucked into his lap. “What happened?”

“Be more specific.”

“I had a…” Chris glances around, the other patrons eating, oblivious to their exchange. “You were in my dream. I woke up with fucking bites on me dude.”

“Kinky.” Josh takes a sip of Ashley’s tea. “Should’ve gotten peppermint. Best kind, my guy.”

Chris raspberries, “This is fucking crazy.”

“Yeah.” Josh agrees. “That your girlfriend?”  
Chris shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“I bet, man.” Josh smirks. “Wanna go to the arcade with me?”

“What,” Chris answers dumbly, blinking slowly. “Okay.”

“Like a date?” Chris asks hurriedly and he’s so fucking confused, hands curled into tight fists, thinking difficult, scattered bits and pieces forming together and Josh rises to his feet, pushing his hair back with a lazy smile.

“I like dates.” He tilts his head to the entrance of the café, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans and Chris gets up, trails after him like a bird on a string, feeling heavy and sluggish as he walks. It feels like a blur, some weird drag of time that makes Chris feel like falling asleep, a hand in his, grip steady, leading and they’re in front of the arcade before he realizes.

“You like Time Crisis?”

“People don’t?” Chris retorts, trying his hardest not to feel weird, not to make this weird but Josh seems understanding, like he can see the turmoil fighting through Chris’ mind. Josh takes his hand, lacing their fingers together as he slips a dollar into the change dispenser. 

“You’ve got nice memories,” Josh tells him suddenly, all sound sucked out from the air, no hooting children, no crowded ping of fake guns blasting across screens. “I’ve seen them. They’re nice.”

“That’s so weird to say.” Chris replies, a laugh escaping his lips. “That’s fucking weird.”

“Is it?” Josh asks, an eyebrow raised, smile on his lips as he drags Chris towards the Time Crisis game tucked in the corner. He lets Chris have 1st player, dramatically posing with the gun controller whenever Chris looks at him. It feels easy, or maybe Chris just doesn’t care, hasn’t really gotten out of his apartment except for work or to drink with Emily. It’s what his life has become, what it is, has been and Chris isn’t sure when he got so boring, so blank that something like an arcade trip makes him feel lighter than he has in years.

“You alright, bro?” Josh asks, staring at him, brow scrunched up in concentration as he fires at enemies on the screen. He glances at Chris before turning his head, realizing Chris hasn’t fired a single shot in the past few seconds, too busy dumbly staring at Josh.

“Got somethin’ to say, Cochise?”

Chris swallows, looking away. “I’m just tired.”

“Wanna go back to your apartment?” Josh tongue tracing his upper lip, eyes heavy and dark. “It’ll be easier.”

“What will?” Chris finds himself asking, taking Josh’s hand when it’s offered, the grip tight and cold, the world seeming to blur into one long grey haze and it’s hard to think. He’s tired, hardly registers when he’s walking, that grainy feeling in his limbs that he almost thinks he’s fallen asleep or maybe his legs have.

“We’re here. Stay with me.” Josh whispers and Chris unlocks the door, slouches along the wall as Josh steadies him, lips downturned, eyes too large and too black. Chris stares into them, feels his stomach bottom out when the flash of sharp, white teeth appears and vanishes before his eyes. Chris closes them, a soft voice in his ear, softly saying ‘sleep’, warm lips pressed to him. It’s a nice feeling, makes him ache with yearning and he reaches out, hands swatting through empty air as Chris slumps into the foyer of his apartment, barely can tell where Josh has gone, only sees some blackened visage sitting beside him, eyes like coal and fire, like they can see through him. A hand touches his face, startling cold, frostbitten, eases him back against the wall and Chris closes his eyes, feeling oh so heavy and tired.

“You still with me, man?” Josh’s voice rings in his head, Chris opening his eyes to Josh on top of him, chest bare, smooth tan skin exposed, bitten up with hickies. He’s straddling Chris’ waist, lips swollen and red and Chris blinks, a fog settled in his brain as he figures out where exactly he is. Familiar, bland decorations stare at him from the wall, his bathroom door open, the whirr of the fan going. He can feel the scratchy texture of his couch underneath him, hips grinding up into warm heat and Chris shakes his head. He feels drunk, like air, touching the thin body spread out before him, tongue thick in his mouth.

There’s a shadow in the corner, a Cheshire grin spread across sharp, sharp teeth. Chris has seen it before but he isn’t sure where, staring too long, distracted. He can hear his name, soft, like a plea and forces his head to look away, eyes heavy and he’s tired. 

“Chris,” Josh whispers, voice desperate, aching. “Chris, Chris.”

“Is this a dream?” Chris asks, grasping Josh’s hips, feels bony hips move and roll under his palms. 

“Can’t be honest with you.” Josh says, kissing him hungrily, dick pressed between their stomachs as his pace stutters, a moan pressed between them and Chris kisses back, dismissing the rotten confused sensation that tickles his mind, lifting up off the couch with a shaking hand, Josh’s legs wrapped around his waist. It’s awkward, getting to the floor, but Josh doesn’t seem to mind how rough Chris is, how uncoordinated, panting and writhing underneath Chris as the other spreads his legs wider.

“Fucking shit.” Chris sighs, thrusting sloppily, listening to every whimper, every shaky moan. “Are you real?”

Josh smirks, skin glistening with sweat, “I feel real enough?”

“Yeah.”

“Then hurry up and make me come, Cochise.”

Chris bends down to kiss him.

\--  
"Fucking shit." Chris nearly screams when he notices another body in his bed, the bed he just left, for a split second, to pee. He clamps a hand over his mouth, staring hard at the sleeping body curled up under his blankets.

"Fuck." Chris rubs his eyes until they're raw, hoping, praying that this isn't real and he definitely didn't cheat on his girlfriend. Wait. They weren’t dating but still, Chris had morals and he still wanted answers Chris looks back to the bed, watches covers shift and turn as the person in it sits up slowly, dressed in one of Chris’ overly large sweatshirts, dark hair wild as sleepy eyes dart around briefly before landing on Chris.

"Shit." The man mutters. "Shit."

The man, Josh, Josh, Josh yawns, tired, falling back onto Chris' bed, stretching languidly and Chris tries not to stare, tries not to linger on flash of skin, the way Josh's body flexes in the morning sun. Josh checks his phone, shooting up as he thumbs through messages.

Chris slumps against the doorframe, sinking to the ground, hands folded over his eyes. If he were to sum up his life into a few short words, it'd be something like "holy shit" or "abort, abort mission" but that's only when he's sober, only when he has time to reflect on himself, his relationship, everything. 

"Fuck," Chris mutters softly, an appropriate word as well, eyes peering through cracks in his fingers as he watches the other man get dressed, tan skin disappearing under a worn band shirt, thighs into jeans far too tight, skin that Chris has touched, laid between.

Chris coughs weakly into his fist, unable to fully concentrate on thoughts or anything really when he can't pry his eyes away from the person shuffling about his apartment, stealing one of his cardigans, the last of the fucking pop tarts, smile crooked and fleeting when it lands on Chris. 

Fuck.

"This wasn’t supposed to happen." Josh says quietly, combing a hand through his hair. “U-Um, fuck, this is awkward.”

“You’re telling me.” Chris sighs. “Wait. Was last night real? For real this time?”

Josh scratches the back of his neck, awkward. “I… Um, no? Look, now’s not a good time.”

Chris forces himself to his feet, reaching out to touch Josh’s shoulder before pausing. He folds his arms instead, a headache forming in the corner of his brain as he notices more bruises and scars, skin pale, grey almost. Josh is staring at Chris’ arms, his shoulders, worrying his bottom lip like a kid caught out when wasn’t supposed to be.

“Was I drunk?” Chris asks. “I don’t remember drinking.”

“It’s complicated.” Josh answers quickly. “Look, dude, I gotta-“

“Please.” Chris begs, growing increasingly uncomfortable as he tries to work through the block in his mind. He can make out bits and pieces, something beyond his dream of Josh being on top of him, beyond conversations that don’t add up, things he can’t remember. A shadow.

“What the fuck,” Chris pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus, fuck, was I high?”

“No, Chris.” Josh responds, his voice glittering with amusement.

“This isn’t funny.” Chris snaps, angry. 

Josh recoils, looking unsure and small. “I’m sorry. I…We can talk about it later.”

“I want to talk about it now.” Chris’ voice sounds strange to his own ears. He doesn’t like it, doesn’t like this feeling that comes with not knowing what’s going on with him, waking up resembling a chew toy and five different reasons as to why can’t remember shit like going back to Emily’s, fucking Josh, anything.

“It wasn’t real, Chris.” Josh says as if noticing Chris’ stress. “It was a dream.”

“What,” Chris sighs angrily. “What the fuck, dude?”

Josh studies Chris’ expression, his own softening considerably and he lightly touches Chris’ arm, head tilting to one side as a look of fondness flickers across. “Later, okay?”

“Josh-“

Josh leans up, dry lips pressing against Chris’ and he squeezes Chris’ arm softly, “Promise. Okay, Cochise? I promise, later, we can talk about it.”

Chris doesn’t say anything, shoulders lifting with a sigh and he feels Josh release his arm, hears the quiet click of his apartment door closed. Chris rubs his face tiredly, body achy and worn and he trudges over to his bed, sinking into it before falling forward. His phone buzzes from inside his pillowcase, Chris uselessly patting around until he finds it. He answers without looking.

“Where the fuck are you?” Emily snaps in his ear.

“God,” Chris groans, burying his face into his blanket. “Leave me alone, I’m tired.”

“It’s been three days, fucker.”

Chris lifts his head. “What?”

“Jesus, Chris.” A car door slams on the other line. “Three days, Chris. You haven’t called, haven’t answered your dumb phone. Ashley’s been calling me because you won’t answer the fucking door.”

“Three days,” Chris repeats, feeling sick.

“Did I stutter?” Pounding knocks come to Chris’ apartment door. “Open up, bitch, it’s not pizza.”

Chris tries not to throw up before he answers the door.

\--

“You look like shit.” Emily comments mildly. She’s concerned, Chris knows, based on her proximity to him and she hasn’t bitched him out since she arrived at his apartment baring bagels and Gouda sandwich that Chris managed to only eat half of before throwing up.

“Thanks.” Chris huffs, staring up at his ceiling. 

“Chris,” That concern is back. “I’m really worried. Are.. Are you okay?”

“I keep having dreams where I’m having sex and there’s a demon watching me.”

“..Wait. What?”

“I think Josh wants to kill me.” Chris says instead, frowning. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“Him killing you?”

“No,” Chris waves his hand dismissively. “The sex. It’s not even real but it’s so great.”

“God, Chris.” Emily moans, slumping beside him. “He wasn’t even that cute.”

Chris doesn’t agree but it’s mostly because he’s been having extremely graphic dreams about Josh and wakes up with come in his pants, moving past that he didn’t know shit about the dude except that none of the sex has been real and he’d really, really like to fuck Josh for real. Chris groans, running a hand down his face, how was this his life? He considers mentally beating the shit out of himself but he’s so not interested in doing so despite the fact that he should.

“I think I’m in love.” Chris says and Emily looks at him with a sneer.

“Must be,” she mutters. “Dreams that good?”

“You wouldn’t believe.”

Emily laughs, slapping Chris’ knee. “You realize how crazy you sound?”

“Yeah,” Chris sighs. “Why aren’t we worried?”

“Because I’ve been kinkshaming you since grade school?” Emily smirks. “Guess you’re not getting back with flowerpot.”

“Please don’t talk about Ashley while I’m talking to you about sex dreams.” 

“I’d prefer to talk about neither.”

A knock comes to Chris’ door, soft double tap and Emily braces herself on Chris’ knee as she lifts up. She wanders over to the door, checking the peephole. She pauses, glances at Chris, who shrugs and rolls her eyes. Chris looks away, staring back at the ceiling. It’s brief, Emily blocking his line of vision shortly after, her expression amused, slightly worried before she smacks him lightly on the forehead.

“Dream boy is here.” Emily says. “Please call me, from either side, dead or undead. How do you want your body?”

“God,” Chris sputters, sitting up. “Leave.”

“Rude. Fine.” Emily tosses her hair. “Bye.”

Josh is standing by the door when Emily leaves, eyes focused on Chris. He makes his way over, hands tucked into the pockets of Chris’ cardigan, looking embarrassed. 

“My boss is really, really pissed.” Josh starts, holding up a hand when Chris tries to interrupt. “I mean, he’s not really my boss but he lets me, ya know. Eat his clientele. I was supposed to eat you. ”

“What?”

“I’ve never had to explain this before.” Josh clears his throat. “Um, so, I feed, that’s a fucking weird word. I guess, um, I use a person’s sexual desires to, um, eat and eventually they die. Because. I suck the life from them, do you see where I’m going with this?”

“A vampire?” Chris tries, entirely not sure where Josh is going with this.

“That would make my life soooo much easier, Cochise.” Josh chuckles, shrugging off Chris’s cardigan. “I’m an Incubus. A really, really bad one and I definitely didn’t think I’d enjoy fucking your mind like I do.”

Chris’ head spins, blinking rapidly, lips pinched as he tries to process all that’s happening. Josh was an incubus, whatever the fuck that was, which is essentially a vampire just not but also not a human being and all Chris can imagine is Josh on his knees, sucking his dick and fuck, this is a serious conversation but Chris can’t seriously believe his luck in people or why he feels way less angry than he did earlier in the day. 

“Am I going to die?” Chris asks suddenly.

Josh’s mouth clicks shut. “No. I found someone new to focus on.”

“’s that mean?”

“It means, Chris,” Josh wets his lip. “That I’m going to leave you alone. Forever.”

Oh. Chris frowns, suddenly unsure. “I don’t want that.”

“Chris, you.. Are you listening?” Josh frowns. “I will kill you.”

“Can’t we just,” Chris makes a hand gesture. “Have sex without you eating my brain?”

“Not how that works but,” Josh shrugs. “I’ve never tried and I don’t live here, dude. I’m all over the place and my sisters would beat my ass.”

“Where do you live?”

“Hell doesn’t seem like an appropriate response.” Josh snorts, humored. “You’re really thinking with your dick right now, which as flattering as it is, does no favors. I’m a demon, Chris.”

Chris stares at him, taking in the thin form that stands before him, how human it appears, soft, small and Josh is right, Chris is definitely thinking with his dick but it’s also fascinating, makes him a bit skeptical and Chris stands up slowly, Josh cocking an eyebrow at him.

“You’re the shadow.” Chris says.

“The thing watchin’ you get in on in your own head, yeah that’s me.”

“Wow.” Chris smirks. “That’s not terrifying at all. What are you? A baby demon?”

“Fuck you, bro. I am terrifying.” Josh bitches, but his lips twitch upward, a certain level of fondness in his expression. 

“Yeah?” Chris lifts his eyebrows, taking a step toward Josh.

“You can’t even imagine, Cochise.” Josh mumbles, eyes focused on Chris’ mouth before flickering back up. “This won’t work.”

“Yeah?” Chris whispers, head tilting forward, grasping Josh’s shoulders gently. Josh nods, distracted, and Chris takes that moment to kiss him, watching dark eyes fall shut, Josh’s hands fisting into the front of Chris’ shirt. “Won’t work right?”

“Mhm.” Josh says airily, lightly touching Chris’ shoulder, his neck. “You’re just tryna get in my pants.”

“Does that get me anywhere?” Chris mouths at Josh’s jaw, feels the skin ripple softly.

“Maybe.” Josh purrs, moaning when teeth scrape along his skin. “You’ll have to share me.”

“With dead people? Okay.” Chris retorts, unbuttoning Josh’s pants. “Hash it out later.”

“Please don’t say hash when in presence of my dick.” Josh chuckles, hands sinking into Chris’ hair. “Whatever. I don’t care. You get to explain this to your friends. Pretty sure one of mine has a crush on that girl who was here.”

“That’s hilarious.” Chris responds, slipping his hand inside Josh’s briefs. “Em is a handful.”

“So is Jess.” Josh snorts. “You gonna fuck me or what, man?”

Chris obliges.

**Author's Note:**

> This really got away from me. The world needs some more humans and their obnoxious soul eating boyfriends  
> Aly, I love you, thank you for commissioning me ;-; <3


End file.
